That's what being famous is all about
by WolfWillow96
Summary: When Katherine Gilbert's boyfriend Stefan arranges a special night for her, she finds herself sitting in the wrong limousine. Noticing it too late, she meets Damon, a well-known celebrity. He explains that his girlfriend, super model Katherine every girl knows and fancies, was supposed to be picked up. At the end, she'll need to choose: Damon with fame or regular Stefan?


Hi, I'm Katherine Gilbert. I'm writing this book because I want to and I like writing. There's no sentimental reason behind it or helping others by telling them my story like lots of authors intend to do. All I want is for you to enjoy and have fun reading it because I had fun living it. I won't skip the very cheesy and romantic parts though, they need to be told but you can choose to read ahead, do whatever you like.  
>Let me see where to start. I know, it was at the night of that fashion show, in London. I remember it well, almost like it was yesterday. I pulled open the curtain to the entrance, right past the guy in a suit standing at the door to check the invitations. The smell of different kind of perfumes hung in the air, like one person couldn't choose and decided to wear every scent he liked, dark lights were moving and rotating, only illuminating the catwalk, making the rest of the room dark which was lit by a thousand little candles. A couple of lonely tables were standing at the left side, waiting for someone to take one of their snacks. I was early, besides me there were a few couples but most of all little groups of women, talking and laughing. A plateau with champagne glasses passed by and I quickly took one off, thanking the waitress where after I apologised for almost topping the plate over. I was glad I had bought a new dress for the occasion, nothing in my closet would've fit for this kind of event. My suspicion was confirmed when I saw other women enter the room, their clothes much more expensive than mine, with the only difference in brand. I wondered how it felt to spend as much money as you liked to whatever you desired, to not even have to think twice about the use of it. That was my rule if I went shopping: don't buy a thing you need to make up an occasion for. If I caught myself thinking that maybe one day I could wear this dress to a fancy prom, I hung it back. With much pain in the heart, of course. But my limited budget as a translator and interpreter didn't want to pay for it, and I listened to my money. I smiled as I saw a young couple, feeling just as much out of place as I did. They stood in the back, whispering to each other, looking around with big eyes of amazement. I looked at the invitation in my hand, a present from Stefan. We were together for six months now, not very long but it counted. He had this thing for holidays and events, while I truly hated those kind of days. I mean, the thoughts behind Christmas, about the sharing and all that, are beautiful but in real life, we do nothing more than buying a lot of crappy stuff that doesn't cost too much because we need to give presents to way too many people that don't want the shit but pretend like it's the best thing they've ever gotten. We don't do it because we love them, it's mostly against our will and with a lot of complaining about all the time you've lost at searching a suited present, we do it because we HAVE to do it. I don't like being told to do something. A couple of times a year, I'd give Stefan something I knew he'd like , something with use that cost more than a dollar, sometimes…other pleasures, if you know what I mean. But I did it out of love, not because I had to. Stefan accepted my weird reasoning around holidays and festivities but he did want to celebrate them and told me I could do whatever I wanted to do, as long as he could do what he wanted to do. So the deal was made, we celebrated holidays but didn't expect anything special, even though he gave me presents, I didn't, and it worked out well. This fashion show was a gift for one of the many things we needed to celebrate according to him, like our sixth month anniversary. As I stood there, I wondered how he had gotten the ticket and how much it must've cost him. Katherine walked today and she was one of the most popular models these days. You had Tyra Banks, Heidi Klum and Naomi Campbell in second, third and fourth place. Katherine Pierce, with her long brown hair, naturally ( I still don't believe what she says, which is that she eats whatever she likes and has never been on a diet before ) skinny body and a perfect tan ( which she also says is naturally ) , was at the top, ranked first, the most famous and best supermodel there had ever been. Even though I didn't like the girl very much (she knew she was it ALL), I loved the thought of finally seeing her in real life on a catwalk. I ordered one last drink at the bar when the lights went out for a split second, where after a host appeared on the long red catwalk with spotlights on the side. The big lights went out and I cursed because I didn't know where my seat was. The number I needed to find was 53 but I didn't know where number 1 started. Most of the places were already taken, only a couple of chairs were waiting for their owners. I was standing in the back and hoped 53 wasn't at the front. If so, a lot of people needed to move. The chair in front of me was number 389. It was the last row at this side. As the chairs moved to the right, the number increased so I went more to the left and could see one lonely chair at the third front row. I inhaled and prepared myself to tap lots of shoulders and annoy lots of people who would probably hate me. At the end, arrived to my seat, it hadn't been that bad. Not only hadn't I tripped more than twice over a purse, nobody had said anything out loud to indicate I was bothering them. Soon after I settled, models began to walk over the catwalk and I couldn't keep my eyes off their legs. They were much more longer than mine, I was almost five feet, the models looked like they were seven feet tall. My self-esteem was pretty good but if there was one thing I would change, it would be the length of my legs. They were short which meant there were lots of particular clothing I couldn't wear. As the skinny giants walked by, I enjoyed the music and special clothing. Only the bathing suit round was a little depressing, seeing how flat a tommy can be and comparing it to yours, not the best idea ever. It didn't keep me off the chips during break though. Finally, after half an hour which I had spent standing lonely in a corner, playing games on my cell, Katherine Pierce walked down the aisle. She was even more beautiful in real life then on all the covers I had ever seen her. Her brown hair was curled and flew back from the wind. She wore the most expensive underwear from that fashion show and she showed it good, very good. Even I was almost convinced, if I would've had the money. The white bra and G-string matched perfectly with her brown skin, the white high heels doing the same job to her infinite long legs. Katherine smiled like the world was hers, and at that moment, it was. I don't think anyone could look away from the twenty year old model. Something about her, besides her impossible beauty, pulled you to her. And then she was gone, back behind the screen, new models coming out. It took me a moment to refocus and stop thinking about how someone could look like that and why I didn't look like that. At the end, all the models, including Katherine, stood side by side, hand in hand and bowed three times for the public. Show was over, everyone went home. I waited a little longer, enjoying the sphere that hung around, watching some of the employees cleaning up. A gift bag had been standing beneath my seat, and I was looking through the stuff in it. Magnets with paperclips, a ruler, flyers, cookies, steals of perfume, pencils and some coupons. Oh, and a balloon, apparently. Feeling sad it was over, I stood up and went outside, waited for Stefan to text me he was here. It was windy outside and I was glad I had my winter coat even though my hands were getting cold from holding the phone. A black limousine was standing across the road, a man in suit holding his hand over his eyes to get a better view. He was looking for someone, too bad it wasn't me, I thought. The phone started ringing and I immediately picked up.<br>''Hello.'' I simply greeted.  
>''Hello, my love. How was it?'' Stefan asked. There were no disturbing noised on the background, he must've been parked somewhere.<br>''Are you here already? It was good, can't wait to tell you about it.'' I started walking towards the right, where a black Volvo was parked, one that looked just like Stefan's. As I got closer, I noticed the licence plate was different. ''Are you standing outside?'' He asked. What a weird question, ''Of course I am.''  
>''Look across the street. What do you see?'' he instructed. I turned away from the car and looked straight into the eyes of the limo driver. He gestured for me to come and I frowned my eyebrows. I looked behind me, maybe he was gesturing to someone else but I was the only one around. ''I see a black limo who's driver is doing weird things, a dog peeing against a lantern and a couple taking PDA way too seriously, why?'' I asked confused. All I wanted to do now was to get home as soon as possible, no need for games, really. ''Stefan,'' I started but he didn't let me finish. ''It's yours, my dear. Have fun going home in style.'' He hung up and with my mouth open from amazement, I crossed the street. The driver smiled, he was actually quit young, in his late twenty's I guessed. ''Katherine?'' He asked and opened one of the doors as I nodded. Still not knowing what to think of all this, I got in. The driver kept waiting with the door open. ''Can I take your coat, miss?'' Talking about being fancy. I quickly took it off, shivered from the cold wind that crept inside and handed it to him. He nodded , closed the door and went to the back. I couldn't see what he did there because the windows were tinted but shortly after, he returned to the front and got in the driver's seat. I relaxed in the long tiny space. A limo didn't look at all as I expected. The seats were next to each other in a J-form, almost no space for your legs. A mini-bar was in the middle against the window and the only light that came in was from little spots in mixed colours on the top. A bottle of champagne was popped open with an empty glass next to it. Well, that glass seemed to scream it wanted to be filled so as sweet as I am, I obeyed and tasted the most delicious champagne I had ever tasted, which tasted expensive, by the way. I shook my head and thanked Stefan for this amazing present, he had timed it perfectly. After a drive that lasted longer than it should've been, we finally stopped. The young fellow opened the door of the car and was standing ready with my coat in his hands. I got out and slid in my blue Michelin jacket as I looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings. This was not my street, not my house. ''Excuse me, but I think we're at the wrong address.''<br>The boy looked horrified and quickly checked a small paper inside the pocket of his long coat. He frowned and looked at the number and street. ''No, this is it. This is the address given to me.'' Then it hit me. Stefan must've arranged this, a nice luxury villa he rented to get away for one night. I smiled and told the driver I was wrong, I needed to be here. His smile quickly returned and he pushed a button near the doorbell. ''Miss Katherine has arrived.'' He spoke through a little intercom. The only reply was a buzz as the doors went open and a butler stood ready. I assumed he was a butler but I wasn't quite sure. He didn't have a fancy suit on like butler's did in movies but he had the same charisma and behaviour. ''Hi, where is the man who loves me too much and did all this?'' I asked the man who was growing bald. He looked twice at me, closed the doors, then gestured to follow him. I could see the driver getting into his limousine and driving away from the house, through the window. In silence, the butler and me, went up a huge staircase, twice the size of a normal one. The walls were hung with pictures of Katherine Pierce and an actor I recognised form TV, Damon Salvatore. Only two paintings between dozen photos. What was this place? We went to the right and the butler knocked on the second door in the hall. The sound of the knock echoed in the big mansion and I wondered how Stefan had found this place. (When I'm writing this, I can't believe how stupid I was for not seeing the signs. I mean, c'mon, the pictures? How naïve can someone be.) A voice told us to come in but the butler waited outside and made space for me to go through. I obeyed and stepped into one of the biggest offices I had seen in my life. It was probably bigger than the whole first floor of my house. My heart made a little jump when the door was closed unexpectedly and a man appeared I had never met before. But I recognised his face. He didn't seem to know me though, for which I couldn't blame him. ''I know your face, you're Damon Salvatore, aren't you?'' I asked the man. Damon narrowed his eyes.  
>''And who are you? I expected Katherine.''<br>''I am Katherine.'' I told him, upon which he shook his head.  
>''No, you're not. I'm not blind. Who are you really?''<br>Why didn't he believe my name was Katherine? There was no reason to lie, was there?  
>''As long as I have lived, my name has been Katherine, whether you want to believe it or not.''<br>He tiled his head to the side, exhaled and sat on the corner of his desk, arms crossed.  
>''You're not Katherine Pierce.''<br>''Nope.'' I said.  
>''Who are you?'' He asked again so I gave the same answer I had given before, my name.<br>''No, I mean, what are you doing here?''  
>''Why didn't you ask it like that?''<br>''I'm sorry if I don't really know how to handle a stranger standing in my office, where my girlfriend and I should be having sex right now.'' Damon sat down in his chair, and gestured me to do the same in another one right in front of his desk. Gladly, did I sit down and took off my coat, trying to get the image of Damon naked out of my head. I looked around and saw a poem hanging on the wall with a picture underneath from a black panther behind bars.  
>''That's Rilke's poem, <em>Der Panther.<em> '' I pointed at the wall where the panther was staring at us with yellow eyes.  
>''You know Rilke?'' He asked, disbelief filling his voice.<br>I nodded and couldn't feel insulted he hadn't expected me to know such literary things.  
>It also told me a lot about Damon himself, he wouldn't have hung it here if there was no meaning to him. I quickly read it again, knowing half of it by heart.<p>

_His gaze those bars keep passing is so misted_

_with tiredness, it can take in nothing more._

_He feels as though a thousand bars existed,_

_and no more world beyond them before._

_Those supply-powerful paddings, turning there_

_in the tiniest of circles, well might be_

_the dance of forces round a center where_

_some mighty will stands paralyticly._

_Just now and then the pupil's noiseless shutter_

_is lifted.— Then an image will indart,_

_down through the limbs' intensive stillness flutter,_

_and end its being in the heart._

''Do you feel trapped, caged in the life you are living?'' I asked him, sincerely wondering.  
>Damon's button up shirt had one button open at the top, showing a piece of a chest I'd love to touch. In fantasies of course, not in real life, that would be creepy. I looked again and thought of the six-pack that must've been hiding underneath. Yeah, also in real life. He caught my eyes and a blush must've appeared on my face as I quickly glanced at the panther.<br>''Why'd you ask?'' He asked. His eyes bore right through me, like he didn't make me feel already uncomfortable.  
>''Because of the poem. Rilke depicts the picture of a panther locked in a cage of a zoo,'' I said, ''in his poem. The cage has iron bars and because of being tired the panther cannot see anything. To him, it looks as though, there are thousands of bars which are confusing his vision. To him, there is no world behind the cage. The panther inside the cage of the zoo has a powerful desire to go out because he feels paralyzed and arrested. By pacing constantly, he is refusing to be tamed. So he is constantly moving in circles to escape from his present fate. The panther perceives the image of the people outside when his eyes see outside but unfortunately they are of no use and became distressed. Though panther is a mighty and strong animal, it seems as if all his powerful desires have vanished. Sometimes he opens his eyes and an image goes into his heart through the tensed and arrested muscles but it ends there without any result. Don't you feel free?'' I asked him when I was done talking. Since Damon didn't answer my question, I asked another one that was going through my mind. ''Who translated this one?''<br>''Leishman.'' He answered and turned his eyes to the poem I was now standing next to. The panther had been painted, by hand. ''Did you do this?'' I asked Damon. He nodded slightly and I couldn't help but admire the man's art talents. ''You know, I like Robert Bly's the most. He's the only one who can make it rhyme.'' I turned around and sat back down on the chair. ''Do you know German?''  
>He shook his head. ''Too bad.'' I sighed and looked at the other paintings hanging in his office. ''The poem is much more beautiful in its original language. Did you paint all these?'' I asked, waving my hand at the wall and ceiling. Finally, Damon gave more response than a shake of his head.<br>''Yeah, I did. You like it?'' I nodded and stood back up to get a closer look at a painting of a couple of birds in the sky, filled with thick cotton like clouds. The one next to it, showed a dog wagging its tail as his boss arrives home while a woman is looking at herself in the mirror. The men doesn't look at all happy.  
>''What can you tell from those paintings?'' He asked me and smiled. I laughed and sat back down, feeling like I had crossed a line and gotten into his personal space. People told me I did that sometimes but it meant I was enthusiastic.<br>''I could give a description based on what I see, but I think you already know the things I'd say, wouldn't you?.''  
>''Try me.'' Was his simple answer.<br>''You feel like you don't belong in the world you're into, like this is not your natural habitat. This house, it's so big but empty. You had goals, things you wanted to accomplish that you didn't do. You're strong and independent but it doesn't feel that way anymore, you want to be freed from this live that is not yours, but you're tired trying and wait for someone else to free you. You've given up, making the best out of it, like getting involved with a girl you don't even like. She might like you but only cause you're good for her reputation and you have money.'' The girl in the mirror looked at her hair and she reminded me of the models I had seen today.  
>''That's all?'' he said, acting unimpressed.<br>I smiled and pointed at the dog. ''And you obviously like dogs.'' He laughed and stuck out his hand. ''Hi, I'm Damon Salvatore.'' Damon introduced himself. I shook his hand and told him my full name, Katherine Gilbert. ''Nice to meet you.''


End file.
